A shot rang off in the darkness. A flash of light dispelled all mystery around the two figures. The first man stumbled backwards, clutching for hope, for anything. He fell to the ground, his hand trying to hold the blood in. This had not been the first shot fired, and it would not be the last. As the second man hunched over the first's body another shot was fired. The first man grimaced, not allowing the second's ears the pleasure of a scream.
"It seems you have a dilemma to deal with," the first man coughed. Blood came out with every word. "This will be your problem soon."

The second man's face contorted, although barely visible in the dark room. "I do not see how it is my problem. I am not the dead one, you are."

The body mustered up a small laugh between the grunts of pain. A short pause and he replied.

"Ah yes, but.." He paused once more, his eyes searching the darkness outside the windows. "I am not the one holding the gun."

Outside, the wind grew louder and louder. The second man turned slowly, hearing the strain of the wind pushing against the walls and windows. The glass broke, crashed, spreading throughout the room like razors. A figure barely tangible flowed through the windows. An outline of a wraith could be seen, darker than night. Its head turned quickly to the two figures in the corner of the room, eyeing the man with the gun. It moved foward slowly but forcefully. The men were not going anywhere, and retribution was required.